The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate
Chapter 236. Damn Imperial Palace (3)

Chapter 236. Damn Imperial Palace (3)

The Imperial Guards under Luke's direct command demonstrated a truly astonishing level of precision and efficiency.

Only seventeen minutes had passed since Caron and the guards had breached the command building.

"Sir Luke, this is madness! You're making a grave mistake! What kind of insanity is this?" Commander Hollander shouted, his face flushed with fury.

"I apologize, Commander," Luke replied calmly. "But we had no other choice."

"You—men who swore loyalty to the royal family—how could you stoop to such insanity?!" Commander Hollander shouted once again.

Despite the outrage, the operation had been a swift success. Caron, Luke, and their forces had managed to seize not only Commander Hollander, but every senior staff officer within the command center. Nineteen officers in total now kneeled on the floor of the command chamber, restrained and disarmed.

The entire command center had been thrown into disarray at the news of Caron Leston's escape and intrusion. In the chaos that followed, the Imperial Guards secured the area with stunning speed.

It was a turn of events none of them could have imagined. It was unthinkable that the elite Imperial Guards would now be the ones binding and subduing them.

The old veteran, Commander Hollander, with his distinctive mustache and iron eyes, glared at Luke.

"This is outright treason," he spat. "You've crossed a line you can never come back from."

Even at his age, Hollander's voice held incredible force.

"I'll explain the situation from the beginning," Luke offered in the gentlest tone he could manage.

But Hollander barked, "There's no negotiating with rebels! If you intend to make demands, you'd best strike me down right now!"

Evidently, he wasn't going to be pacified easily.

Caron, standing quietly to one side, recalled what Halo had once said about the man. He said Hollander was a man who embodied the word 'soldier' better than anyone else in the world.

The description couldn't have been more accurate. That unwavering conviction in his eyes, the firm set of his jaw—this wasn't someone who could be easily swayed.

"You must have sensed it already, Commander," Luke said. "The royal family is plotting something."

"A soldier follows orders, nothing more!" Commander Hollander shouted.

No matter how Luke tried, Hollander wouldn't budge.

Caron studied the old man's wrinkled face. Soldiers, much like knights, held honor above all else. And if they wanted to reach someone like Hollander, it would have to be through that very honor.

"It's an honor to meet you, Commander Hollander," Caron said, stepping forward. "I'm Caron Leston. My grandfather spoke of you often."

At the mention of his name, Hollander's gaze snapped to him, then said, "Then tell the Duke he's gravely mistaken."

"Oh, I should have clarified," Caron said with a casual shrug. "The Ducal Family of Leston officially has no connection to this incident. At least, not on record."

"Don't insult me with such nonsense," Hollander snapped. "This is treason! Enough to see your house wiped out! Not even the Ducal Family of Leston is above the law."

"Are you saying that the royal family might hold our Ducal Family of Leston accountable for the crime?" Caron asked.

"Of course—" Hollander began, but was cut off.

"How dare they?" Caron interrupted, his voice laced with quiet menace. "That feeble, crumbling royal family?"

A cold killing intent spilled out from him. The already tense command chamber grew even more suffocating. Luke moved to stop him, but Caron raised a hand, signaling him to stand down.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he said, "You're a great soldier, so you must know this already. If we truly wished, wiping this palace off the map wouldn't be difficult."

It was no exaggeration.

If Halo chose to, he could storm the palace alone and slaughter every last member of the royal family. There was no force in the palace—or perhaps the entire continent—that could rival him. He was a knight who had reached the 9-Star level, a being far beyond the limits of humanity.

That was Halo Leston.

"Still," Caron went on, "Why do you think my grandfather sent me here instead of coming himself? He has no desire to see the tragedy of fifty years ago repeated."

He used Halo's name without hesitation. Halo had already told Caron to mobilize everything he could, and that included the prestige of their family name.

"The Imperial Palace can't be allowed to become a battlefield again," Caron said.

"You shouldn't be the one to make that argument," Hollander said sharply. "Not while holding the Guard Headquarters hostage."

"Alright. Since it doesn't seem like you'll listen, I'll show you myself just how serious the situation is," Caron replied, then raised a hand and pointed at one of the bound officers.

Amy, sharp as ever, hurried to bring the man forward. He was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and panic in his eyes.

"C-Commander," the man stuttered, looking desperately at Hollander.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Hollander growled, glaring at Caron. "What the hell are you planning to do?"

Caron Leston, the Duke's youngest grandson, wasn't someone who would disregard honor. And yet, something in him felt off. Hollander could sense a disturbing madness flickering behind those calm, blue eyes.

Shing.

The sound of steel being unsheathed echoed in the chamber. The blade of Guillotine shimmered with a dark, sinister glow.

Seeing it, Hollander's rage boiled over. He barked, "You bastard! What are you, the so-called hero, trying to do right now?!"

"Isn't it obvious?" Caron replied coolly.

"You're going to use my man's life to threaten me? You think that's something a noble should do?! You wretched, monstrous child!" Hollander shouted.

For the first time, his calm had broken. It was clear how deeply he cared for his subordinates.

"Sir Caron, this is going too far," Luke said in a grave voice.

This was no mere rebellion. It was a disgrace to honorable soldiers, an act vile enough to be recorded as a stain on history itself.

Yet Caron didn't flinch. He pressed Guillotine to the officer's neck with a chilling calm. He asked, "When did I say I was taking him hostage?"

"Then what the hell are you—?" Commander Hollander began...

That was when it happened.

Slice!

Caron's sword cut into the officer's neck without hesitation. It all happened so fast that everyone in the room froze, their expressions twisted in horror.

Thud.

The severed head hit the floor with a sickening sound. At the sight, Commander Hollander's veins bulged on his neck as he roared in fury, "You damned wretch! I'll curse you even in death!"

"Whoa, easy there, old man," Caron said, unshaken. "How have you lived this long with that temper? You'll drop dead before your time."

Despite having just committed such a horrifying act, Caron's voice carried not the slightest tremor.

He pointed at the corpse of the decapitated officer and continued, "Take a look with your own eyes, Commander."

With bloodshot eyes, Hollander examined the body of his fallen subordinate. The man's neck was clearly severed, but not a single drop of blood spilled out. Instead, writhing, grotesque black insects slithered from the wound.

"Insects infused with dark mana. You've heard of them, haven't you? They're called maw worms," Caron explained.

Crunch.

Caron crushed the insects underfoot without a second thought. He added, "As you can see, quite a few of the people around you have already been infested."

"How... How could this be..." Hollander murmured, his voice trembling.

"I've heard you're a soldier of integrity, someone who refused to entangle himself in political factions. But can we say the same of your subordinates?" Caron asked.

His mana, sharp and overwhelming, filled the commander's office like a storm surge.

"If even the commanders tasked with guarding the Imperial Palace are in this state... Commander, is this royal family you're protecting truly the same one you believed in all your life?" Caron asked.

Whoosh.

Now that Caron had reached 8-Star, his power surged with even greater authority. Luke, standing nearby, was visibly shaken by the strength of Caron's mana.

Has he advanced again? In that short time? Luke thought.

The rest of the Imperial Guards shared Luke's astonishment. Some even turned pale, frozen like statues.

And then, chaos struck.

"Grrraaaagh!"

Several of the bound officers suddenly let out inhuman growls and lunged at Caron.

Crack!

Their upper bodies swelled grotesquely, and from within them, waves of dark mana erupted like a storm.

"Kyaaaaaaah!"

Claws black as ink slashed through the air, aimed straight for Caron's throat.

With wide eyes, Hollander shouted, "Caron Leston! Get out of the way!"

"Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine," Caron said calmly.

In that moment, Hollander saw something that made it feel as if time itself had stopped.

Dozens of dark blue lines shimmered in the air like threads of light, weaving an intricate net that completely engulfed the monsters charging at Caron.

Slice! Slice!

Each time a monster's body brushed against those lines, it was effortlessly sliced through, as if cut by an invisible blade.

Hollander hadn't even seen Caron draw his sword, but the monsters fell apart, dismembered and scattered across the floor like broken dolls.

The dark blue threads sparkled like shards of glass catching sunlight. They were mesmerizing and chilling to the core.

"As the Imperial Guards have made their choice, now it's your turn, Commander Hollander," Caron said.

The mangled flesh and maw worms lay strewn across the floor. But within seconds, they were devoured by an abyssal darkness, leaving no trace behind. It was as if a black swamp had swallowed everything.

Hollander stared at Caron, breathless.

"The Imperial Palace of today is no longer the place you once protected," Caron said quietly. "It's been tainted with dark mana. And if nothing is done, history may repeat itself—the tragedy from fifty years ago could unfold again. So, let me ask you one question, Commander."

He sheathed Guillotine; the blade was still clean, with not a speck of blood on it. Then, in a low and solemn voice, he asked, "What does honor mean to you?"

The young man Hollander had thought was insane now stood before him with eyes full of unshakable resolve.

In those eyes, Hollander saw an old hatred. It was the same look he'd seen countless times on the battlefield, the gaze of someone who had lost something irreplaceable to the enemy. The eyes of a man who couldn't let go of vengeance.

Hollander didn't know what Caron hated so deeply. But he did know one thing. He knew what decision he had to make now.

"...What do you want from me?" Hollander asked.

Caron gave him a faint smile, then said, "Welcome to the rebellion, Commander Hollander."

With that, a major figure joined the rebellion led by Caron.

***

Somewhere underground, in a chamber whose location was impossible to pinpoint...

Crackle.

"...The shadows we stationed in the Guard Command have been wiped out," a man draped in a black robe reported to a figure seated in a chair. His voice trembled continuously, the sound of someone who was deeply, thoroughly afraid.

But the voice that answered him was shockingly calm. "I've been expecting that news."

"We've also received word that Lahart, Commander of the Imperial Guards, has transferred Caron Leston to the underground prison beneath the knight order's headquarters. It seems... the Imperial Guards have let Caron into the palace," the black-robed man continued.

At those words, the figure seated in the chair slowly rose. For a brief moment, his form came into view beneath the chamber's dim lighting. His face was pale as a corpse. Long black hair framed it, creating a stark contrast. And a pair of gold eyes—devoid of focus—glimmered with something eerie and inhuman.

"So the Imperial Guards have chosen their side," he murmured.

"...It appears so, my lord," the black-robed man replied.

"Humans always claim to learn from the mistakes of their forebears. That's why they're such an amusing species," the man said as he began slowly walking forward.

"If I'd had just a little more time, I could have prepared a grander performance in your honor... What a shame," the man said with a smile curling on his lifeless face. "Still, I suppose it's fine. Even something half-cooked has its own flavor."

With his hands clasped behind his back, he turned to glance at the black-robed man. His voice was soft, yet carried a strange weight. "Release the actors we prepared for the wolf."

At that command, the black-robed man prostrated himself, his forehead pressing against the stone floor, then answered, "Your will shall be done."

He hurriedly fled the chamber, robes trailing behind him.

Now alone, the man in the golden robe turned to face a purple crystal glowing faintly in the corner of the room. He smiled once more, then said, "Come quickly now. I don't think I can wait much longer."

The hem of his golden dragon-embroidered robe brushed the floor, its fabric slowly absorbing the chamber's purple glow like a veil of dusk creeping over light.